


1969

by sapphirecobalt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe-1969, Angel Eyes - Freeform, Castiel Behaves Like Endverse Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel goes by Angel Eyes, Castiel goes by a different name, Castiel goes by a nickname, Endverse Cas is a Hippie, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Magic, One Shot, POV Floating, POV alternate, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Witch!Rowena, brief mention of orgies, hippie!Castiel, no actual smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 16:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21460948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirecobalt/pseuds/sapphirecobalt
Summary: Prompt: With every reincarnation, people lose their memories of their past lives, Person A has suddenly remembered over a thousand years of reincarnations and they find that they've loved the same person in everyone.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, DeanCas, Destiel
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48
Collections: Destiel Instagram One Shot Contest - November 2019





	1969

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a sumbission to destiel.fanfiction 's Instagram One Shot Contest.
> 
> Castiel goes by the name "Angel Eyes" in this fic; there is a reason for that.
> 
> Edit (8/25/20): This fic has not been beta read; all of the errors are 100% my own.

"Wake up, Angel Eyes! It's time to go!" announced a cheery Minnesota accent.

With a smile plastered on her face, Sheriff Donna Hanscum got up out of her desk, keys in hand, walked the eight or so paces to the jail cell, and unlocked one of the cells.

"Sorry boys, it's not ya turn, yet," she replied to the complaints rattled off by the occupants of neighboring cells. "C'mon, Angel Eyes," she told the blanketed lump on the bed. The figure rustled taking it’s time to turn and face the blonde sheriff. 

“There ya are!”

The figure sat up on the bed and stretched, blanket pooling on his lap. After a yawn and some eye rubbing, he got out of the bed. He made it halfway through the entrance of the cell, halfway to freedom, before turning back to make the bed.

“Aww, you didn’t have to do that. Ya sweetheart.” Sheriff Hanscum gushed. The occupants in the other cells had stopped complaining, but one of them rolled their eyes.

After the bed was made, the man, Angel Eyes, exited the cell. He stood next to Sheriff Hanscum, watching her as she locked the cell and pocketed the keys. When she faced him, he matched her genuine smile with a gummy one of his own. “It’s the least I can do for the pleasure of your company,” his tone sincere and his voice rough from having just woken up.

“Oh you! A charming little devil, aren't cha?” She walked past him and headed for the lobby of the department. “Follow me.”

Angel Eyes did just that. “Sheriff, unless I slept through it all or I’m higher than I thought, it hasn’t been three days, yet,” It was more of a statement than a question but he was no less confused, as evidenced by the squinting of his eyes, his angel eyes.

“No Angel, it hasn’t been three days yet,” As they weaved through desks and people, Sheriff Hanscum explained. “You’ve been bailed out.”

Angel Eyes raised his eyebrows. He didn’t know anyone in this city who cared about him enough to visit him in jail, much less bail him out. “By who?”

“A woman who refused to leave until she could get ya out.” Sheriff Hanscum turned to Angel Eyes. “Caused quite a scene with the higher ups, as it were.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Someone knows how important you are to them, sounds like.”

Angel Eyes was even more confused now, and a bit curious. He decided to go with it. Whoever this woman was, if she was willing to help him get out of this situation, he’d go along with whatever demands he was sure she’d make. After all, people didn’t just bail strangers out of jail for free. 

As they rounded the corner, he didn’t even have to ask who the woman that bailed him out was, even though the lobby was quite busy; it was as if Angel Eyes crossed over a magical barrier and was gifted with enough intuition to recognize which woman is responsible for his being let out earlier.

“Oh, Miss Macloed!” A red-headed woman turned around. “Over here!” Sheriff Hanscum waved her over. 

Angel Eyes watched as the red head made her way in their direction. As she walked, not only did the sea of people seem to part for her, but it also appeared as if the sun shone directly behind her because she had this glow around her that faded as she got closer. Angel Eyes, not for the first time since he woke up, wondered if he was still high.

“Here he is!” The bubbly sheriff looked at ol’ Angel Eyes as if she were proud that he was standing there with them.

“There you are.” Miss Macloed’s scottish voice took Angel Eyes by surprise. So did the fact that she was smiling at him. It didn’t quite reach her green eyes but it was there.

“Well, Miss, Macloed, thank ya for gettin’ him outta here!” The sheriff faced him. “And you, stay outta trouble for one night, would ya?”

“I make no promises,” he winked at her.

“Oh hush. Take care of yourself, m’kay?” She spoke to both of them now. “If you’ll excuse me, I have ta get back to work, but before I do-” the sheriff directed the next part to Miss Macloed, “-take good care of him,” with a final nod, she was off, heading back to her sheriff duties. 

“So what is it we’re calling you, nowadays?”

“‘Angel Eyes’,” he held out his hand for her to shake.

She blinked at it before responding. “Aye, on account of those baby blues of yours. After all these years, I still can’t believe your eyes are the same color.” she marvelled.

He put his hand down as soon as he realized she wasn’t going to shake it. “Surely you didn’t bail me out to talk about my eye color, Miss Macloed?” He eyed her with obvious distrust. 

“Of course not. And it’s Rowena, dear, we’ve been over this,” her tone grew impatient towards the end.

He looked her up and down, taking the sight of her long hair that fell in ringlets, her short stature, pale skin, and perhaps the strangest thing about her, the dark green, floor length cloak she wore around her shoulders.

He shook his head in disbelief and chuckled. “I doubt that since I’ve never met you before. Besides, I would definitely remember a beautiful woman such as yourself,” As he said it, he couldn’t shake this feeling that he was wrong; he had seen her somewhere before, although he couldn’t recall. Not to mention there was this pull, also like magic, which made him want to follow her wherever she went. Naturally, he confused the pull and gut feeling with lust.

“You’ve gotten better at flirting,” she gave an amused smile, “Although you’re taste in fashion is still lacking. I s’ppose some things never change. I’m sure you have many questions. Follow me,” she turned around and exited the Sheriff Department, not once turning back to see if he was following. For the second time that day, Angel Eyes found himself following a short woman with an accent, not that he was complaining.

~*~

The not-so-abandoned warehouse loomed over Angel Eyes; Rowena, however, didn’t seem the least bit bothered. Once inside, Angel’s eyes had to adjust to the darkness. Their footsteps were muffled in an empty building, which confused Angel Eyes, as he followed what he thought was the rough figure of Rowena in the near complete blackness.

“Rowena?”

“Hmm?”

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Oh, silly me.” There are a lot of words he would use to describe Rowena, “silly” not being one of them. Nevertheless, she snapped her fingers and it was as if the universe itself said _Let there be light!_ because all of the light fixtures blinked on at the same time. 

“How did you do that?” Magic. That was her only reply, other than a knowing smile.

Angel Eyes looked around.

Whoever coined the phrase “Looks can be deceiving” had clearly never met Rowena, and he personally hoped they never would because she’d give them a run for their money.

The inside of the warehouse looked like a house.

Truth be told, the inside of the warehouse looked like the set of a tv show that never got filmed. None of the “house’s” walls reached the ceiling of the warehouse, yet they looked tall enough to be walls in an actual one story house. Rowena’s “house” didn’t have a ceiling but it did have red carpeted floors, floral wallpaper, several works of art (all of which looked like they belonged in an art museum and not Rowena’s warehouse “house”), and a combination of antique and modern furniture and decorations. She gave him a tour, bringing him into the kitchen, living room, and even the bathroom. He noticed that Rowena did not show him her bed room, but she did show him the room across from.

The door looked exactly the same as the other ones; white with an ornate brass knob. Rowena stepped in front of Angel Eyes; which was unusual, he noted, because she blocked his view of her unlocking the door, and if he hadn’t heard a distinctive click, he never would have guessed that’s what she did. She opened the door, slowly.

All of the rooms he’d visited so far had extravagant glass chandeliers that hung from the ceiling of the warehouse, except for this one.

This room would have been pitch black were it not for the light coming from the chandeliers that lit the neighboring rooms. Angel Eyes found himself becoming grateful for “house’s” lack of a ceiling, otherwise he never would have been able to see the floor-to-where-the-ceiling-would-have-been bookcases that seemed to replace the walls in the room. In the dim, indirect light, he could make out what must have been hundreds of books. Upon further inspection of the nearest bookcase to his left, there were thick books, thin books, colorful books, books with gold lettering, books with no lettering, books with long titles. Regardless of what they looked like, they all had one thing in common: none of them appeared to have been made in this century.

While Angel Eyes scanned Rowena’s impressive collection of antique books, the redhead in question took it upon herself to light two dozen candles at the same time, with the snap of her fingers.

At this action, Angel Eyes turned around to face Rowena. The flames flickered and cast shadows on her face. It should have made her look sinister, but it didn’t. Rather, she looked more comfortable, more like herself in the candle-lit room.

Angel Eyes looked around the room. There was one wooden bookcase that was void of books, in the center of the left-most wall. He walked over to it, and was met with the sight of yet more candles, though these were unlit, and jars. So many jars. Full jars, empty jars, colorful jars, clear jars, jars with herbs, jars with liquids, jars with suspicious looking contents including: a bright pink powder that glowed, some sticks that looked like miniature antlers, small bones and perhaps the most damning of all, an unmistakable jar of blood.

Rowena walked towards Angel Eyes and stood in front of him, leaning a bit on the large mahogany table in a couple of feet in front of the shelves of jars.

“Right-” Rowena clapped her hands, “-let’s get to it, shall we?”

Before Angel Eyes could ask if this is where she planned to kill him she began her explanation. “I’m a witch,” she stated with the air of someone who had just said the sun is a star, in other words, as if it were a fact.

Angel Eyes looked around the room then back at Rowena. A lightbulb went off. "You're wiccan."

Rowena sneered. "No. I'm a witch. Wicca is a cheap imitation. I'm the real deal." She sounded quite proud of herself. 

"You're...a witch?" Angel Eyes said slowly.

"How did you grow more dense over the centuries?"

Centuries? Wha…?

Rowena saw the confused look on his face and kept going. "Let me explain it this way, Angel, this-" she motioned to him, "-is one of your incarnations. You've had multiple."

"Of course. It's a well known fact. Everyone reincarnates and everyone has no memory of their past lives," Angel Eyes said, growing more and more curious. Did they know each other in a past life?

"I've known you since your first one," she confirmed his belief. "Take a seat. This is going to be a lot to process. With a wave of her hand the door unlocked and Angel Eyes stood transfixed as a chair floated into the room and gently placed itself on the other side of the door. Mouth agape, he let Rowena guide him to the chair since he was too shocked to sit down himself. 

Rowena was a witch. 

She waved her hands and all sorts of books, jars and witchy tools floated and set themselves down on the table. Angel Eyes sat glued to his rather comfy chair, whether out of fear or curiosity, he couldn't tell.

Meanwhile, Rowena multitasked: using her magic, she floated a bunch of ingredients into a floating cauldron (yes, an actual cauldron) heated them up and began stirring, using a book that floated over his head as a guide while she told him a story.

A love story.

During the entire ordeal, Angel eyes had to remind himself to breathe because Rowena had his undivided attention. He just barely paid attention to her story because his brain was still trying to process several things: 1) Magic is real, 2) Rowena is a witch, 3) They knew each other in a past life, 4) He knew an actual witch in a past life, 5) Said actual witch was performing magic right in front of him. 

When Rowena started saying words- an incantation he presumed- in a language he didn't understand, his attention snapped back to her. The cauldron gave off a blue fire, and Angel Eyes recoiled in his seat as it also gave off matching blue sparks. When the fire died down, Rowena grabbed a goblet that was sitting on the table, used it to scoop up the contents of the goblet and handed it to Angel Eyes, expectantly.

He took the golden ornate goblet and held it in one hand. There was a purple liquid inside with the consistency of a smoothie and it smelled really good, although he couldn't quite place the scent, and it concerned him because he could have sworn she put a few of those small bones in there. He looked up at Rowena.

"Drink this. I promise it'll help you remember."

He looked deep into her eyes, hoping to catch her in a lie, but all he found was sincerity.

Without breaking eye contact, he drank the liquid in one gulp.

It tasted better than it looked, like lavender and blueberries, and it did look good, he had to give her credit for that at least. He couldn't give her credit for anything else because nothing happened.

Rowena's expression changed: it went from her customary _I-know-something-you-don't_ smile to something softer and sympathetic.

"This might-" the rest of her sentence was cut off as Angel Eyes' screamed.

He doubled over in pain, forehead touching his knees, feeling like his skull was cracking open in two.

His brain pulsed, sending another wave of pain, making him sit up, bending over the back of his chair. His heart pounded in his chest. Hands in his hair, he resisted the urge to pull but he felt the sweat. He heard himself cry in agony but it sounded distant.

Later on, he would figure out that the pain he felt wasn't because of the drink or even remembering his past lives; the pain came from everything he endured during his previous incarnations.

Every tear of joy, every ounce of pain, every fist clenched in anger, every laugh that took his breath away from every incarnation he lived as, from every person he used to be filled his mind.

He had flashbacks of his previous lives I no particular order: an angry blond man yelling at him, a dark-haired petite woman in bed with a man he recognized as his past self and another man with green eyes, a dark-skinned woman with the exact same green as the previous man laughing soundlessly, a version of him being chased down a cobblestone street, Rowena telling him to run. Run where?

All of these images flashed in his mind along with every emotion attached to those memories, his memories, and all he could do was writhe around in pain.

Rowena watched him, for she knew there was nothing she could do but wait. She stood by him, hoping that offered him some comfort, knowing it offered her none. She didn't know what memories he'd remember first, only that she hoped they were the right ones. She took a photograph out of a pocket inside her cloak.

Angel Eyes took gases for air, as if he were starved for it, once the memories stopped flooding him. His pounding heart slowed down after a few minutes.

He remembered. He remembered over a thousand years of lives. He didn't remember everything, but he remembered enough.

Once he collected himself, "Hello, Rowena," He looked up at her, still a bit breathless.

"Hello, deary," She smiled at him. The real him, who remembered her.

She gave him the photograph. “You know what you must do.”

He did. Armed with this not-so-new-found knowledge, he took the photograph in hand. A young man who appeared to turn around and laugh at something the photographer had said. He looked at the young man and committed his face to memory. He refuses to forget him. Never again.

Clutching the photograph in hand, he remembers his mission: to find, and keep, the love of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this fic!
> 
> Edit (8/25/20): As always, any comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. You can find me on [Tumblr](https://sapphirecobalt-1.tumblr.com/) or on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/sapphirecobalt/).


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